


to get back to you (I'll live a thousand lives)

by karasunotsubasa



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bar Room Brawl, Bittersweet Ending, Cloud Watching, Drinking, First Kiss, Fluff, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Kissing, Lots and lots of Pining, M/M, Memory Loss, Modeling, Mythology - Freeform, Mythology References, Painter!Victor, Pining, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Reincarnation, Reunions, Romantic Fluff, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Star-crossed, Swordsman!Yuuri, Yggdrasil - Freeform, honestly ignore that tag it's only here bc reincarnation is, idk why there's a tag for that but lol, learning to love, light gore, mermaid!chris, more happy than bitter but just in case, non graphic character death, phichimetti on the side bc I love them, this will be a weird fusion of things just a fair warning, yes I have a whole 0 chill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-11 20:23:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13531863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karasunotsubasa/pseuds/karasunotsubasa
Summary: What starts as an innocent journey to find inspiration becomes a fight for love that lasts through the centuries, but in the end there is nothing that can stop Victor from coming back to Yuuri. Not even the curse of eternal rebirth.





	1. I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's inspiration at first sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for day 1 of [@victuuri-week](http://victuuri-week.tumblr.com/), prompt au: historical  
> tho it isn't v historical in this single piece oh well

 

"Yakov wants another painting," Victor whines, grabbing the third pitcher of beer Chris has brought over. "How will I paint anything when my muse is as dry as my paints?"

"Get Yakov to buy you new paints, then," Chris says, as usual finding no real problem in Victor's struggles. "Isn't he your patron? That's his job in exchange for your services, right? Or, at least, giving you money is, yes?"

Victor sighs.

"He is, and it is, but the materials are only a part of the bigger dilemma. What about inspiration? What about that ache in your chest that you feel when you put the colours on canvas and they come to life, telling a heartwrenching story of creation? Where did all of that go? And how do I get it back?"

"Maybe you should be a poet then. You definitely sound like you'd be good at it," Chris says, takes a large gulp of beer, and mumbles: "I'm not drunk enough to listen to this."

Victor only sighs into the depths of his pitcher. He can't blame Chris for being bored of his constant bemoaning of the loss of his art, because the frustration that has been growing inside him slowly for months begins to numb as well. He remembers tearing at his hair before, but now? Now his desperation can be found here, at the tavern, almost every day way before dusk.

That, more than the actual loss of skill, bothers Victor the most.

"Maybe you should try to find yourself a young little thing to put some vigour back into your aging bones. A new muse to inspire your creations," Chris suggests. "Like that one."

He points to a dark haired boy, no older than twenty. His skin is beautifully tan and his eyes, dark like onyxes, match the beautiful shine of his hair. His life burns bright and eager when he shoots Chris a smile, and Victor turns away.

"Not my type," he says, ignoring the snort Chris gives him. "You'd have a better shot at him, if you will."

Chris hums. "Don't mind if I do."

Victor is a good friend, or at least he tries to be, so he swallows the last bitter gulp of his beer and waves a dismissive hand at Chris. His friend stands up on shaky legs like a newborn calf, already sufficiently drunk, but Victor knows that he will succeed in whatever seduction he has planned. It's Christophe. That seems to be the only thing he needs to be to make things work for him in life, unlike Victor.

"Maybe I should just stop painting and focus on inventing," he mumbles to himself, stumbling onto his feet to get another beer and drink himself into a stupor that maybe, just maybe, will inspire him to do something with his worthless life.

He's into his sixth – or is it seventh? he's lost count – pitcher when a fight breaks out at the far end of the tavern. With purely abstract curiosity, Victor looks over. The tables have been flipped, the chairs pushed away, and some moron has drawn a hunting knife at a man dressed in leather pants and a jacket which fit so fine even from far away that Victor can see the shift of his muscle under the flexible fabric. It catches his attention, purely by chance.

The man isn't tall and he is far from a brute, but his body is a perfect example of human strength. It's a work of art, truly and utterly; Victor knows a masterpiece of nature when he sees it. The thick thighs that can snap another's neck, flexible waist that twists as the man lands a punch which sends the knife guy reeling, back that looks solid and graceful at the same time, and biceps that do not look threatening yet hold within a weight that can fall even a stronger opponent. From the artistic point of view, his is the perfect body that many an artist would kill to have as a model.

Victor's mild attraction to the proportions of the man's figure builds into something more when the knife is thrust at the man's belly and he sidesteps it with footwork so quick that Victor's drunk eye completely misses it – the man looks like he's dancing, which is ridiculous, but also incredibly fascinating, and Victor curses his drunk brain for being so drunk he can't appreciate the intricacies as they should be.

When the knife flies through the air and clutters to the ground, Victor is not surprised. There's cheering all around and drinks are offered to the winner: the man with the gorgeous built, muscles, balance, and face that turns a shade of red at the praise.

Victor, stunned, drunk and charmed, wonders what the name of that colour is. Does he have what he needs to mix his paints and achieve such a fetching combination of pink, red and purple? Could he do it?

He gets to his feet, and sways in place for a while, but only part of it is from alcohol; the other – a vivid image of Eros, the god of love, bathed in the blood from the fallen corpses of those who gave their hearts away too hastily. Victor can see it now, as clearly as he can't see anything else through his drunken eyes. And he sees himself among the dead, eyes lifeless but pained, still, for he too has been yearning for love, giving himself away freely, and getting naught in return.

It's perfect. It's brilliant. It's exactly what Victor needed to feel his passion burn like it burns now.

He veers towards Chris and grabs his friend hard around the waist, pulling him away from his newest dalliance.

"I need a canvas," he rasps, voice eager and full. "And find me some paint. I don't care how."

"Now?" Chris whines, but Victor is serious. He's inspired. He knows that he has to do it now–

"Or never," he says out loud.

And he means it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> preview of the next chapter:
> 
> "Promise?" he asks, afraid that whatever dream he's having will disappear once the haze of alcohol clears.


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor finds his muse again, and he doesn't plan on letting go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for day 2 of [@victuuri-week](http://victuuri-week.tumblr.com/), prompt yuuri: promises

 

Sketches strew every surface in the small room Victor is renting for a portion of his commission money from Yakov, who loved the painting Victor did of _Eros among the field of poppies_ that he already requested another "in the same tone, you hear me, boy?" to be made for his wife. Apparently, she too was enamoured with Victor's vision and demanded to see more. No sane person would dare deny Lady Lilia anything: not his husband, not her servants, and most definitely not the lowly painter who caught their family's fancy.

If a wind blows, you ride it, people say.

But they also say that winds blow counter to what ships desire.

Victor definitely feels it happen now, of all times, as he looks at the sketches cluttering his space. They are not for the new painting. They are scraps and pieces of a dream that Victor had of a strong back, an arm throwing a punch, the nape of the neck with short hair falling onto it: black, filled in with pencil. Others, of a perfectly shaped thighs and mounds of a rump with dimples that Victor imagined and added; or ones of a face – these are multiple and all angry, because Victor can't remember the face of the man who inspired him so, no matter how hard he tries.

He discards another sketch, frustrated.

"I need to see you again," he tells the piece of parchment that looks at him with vague lines and contours, but no expression whatsoever. "Who are you? How do I find you?"

Salvation comes to him when he least expects it: in the form of the young catch from all those nights before that sleepily blinks at him from within the sheets of Chris' bed.

"That's Yuuri," he says and yawns. "I know him. Want me to introduce you?"

Victor's breathless eagerness is met with an indulgent smile and a laugh, and Victor doesn't have to pretend not to see the fond look on his friend's face when he looks at his bed partner – he truly doesn't see it; his own happiness is an overwhelming flower that blooms suddenly, but smells oh so sweetly.

They meet at a tavern just as the sunlight leaves the world a dark and dangerous place to wander. Chris' arm wraps around his new conquest's shoulders – his name is Phichit, Victor puts to memory – but Victor's eyes at the moment have only enough attention to give to the man Phichit has brought with him: Yuuri.

He's radiant, that's what Victor thinks first.

He's sweet, that's what he notices next.

He's all that I want, that's what he realizes the more drinks they have together.

Victor's eyes never leave Yuuri's face as if he's trying to imprint the contour, the colour, the way light hits his cheeks and casts shadows on his eyelids and nose, and jaw. Yuuri blushes under the intensity of his gaze and it makes him no less beautiful than before. Quite the opposite.

Yuuri is a little quiet, a bit withdrawn, but Victor is already endeared to him enough that it does not bother him the least. Yuuri's shyness disappears the more empty pitchers litter their table, but it is replaced by a drunken flush that is just as delightful. Victor feels like he's living for the first time in a long, long while.

"So you're a master swordsman?" Victor asks, awed, but unsurprised. Yuuri's physique speaks for itself, so when he admits to having studied the way of the sword, Victor's interest only heightens. "I'm sure you must do a lot of training to keep yourself in fighting shape, right?"

"I do, yes," Yuuri nods into his pitcher. "It benefits me to be prepared, since I never know when I will be called upon to defend my lord."

He takes a sip of his beer and Victor watches how his throat works – that, in itself, is a work of art as well. Victor suddenly feels a stifling need to paint him. To bless the canvas with Yuuri's beauty and strength, and to worship Yuuri's body with reverence and affection that it deserves... if only he'd be allowed.

"Alright," Yuuri says and Victor has to blink. Did he say it aloud?

Yuuri's cheeks turn an even deeper shade of pink, almost a fetching red of a setting sun. His eyes, however, are a different beast entirely: they're dark and bewitching, looking at Victor with lazy kind of intensity that makes Victor shiver on the spot from how otherworldly beautiful Yuuri appears to him.

"You are taking aloud, still," he tells Victor just as his lips quirk in a smile that takes Victor's breath away. "Was that something you didn't mean to ask? I can pretend I didn't hear it, if it means anything."

It's Victor's turn to blush. Abstractly, he hopes the colour looks on him as good as it does on Yuuri, but he knows that no mortal could match the Eros that sits across from him in a dingy old tavern. The little candle lamp above them flickers out right when Victor shakes his head, so Yuuri's face disappears in the dark when Victor says:

"I meant every word I said."

Yuuri is silent for a long moment after Victor's voice dies. He drinks, Victor can somewhat see the movement of his arm in the scattered light that comes from other tables. The pitcher knocks hard onto the table when Yuuri sets it down again, and Victor almost jumps. Almost, because there's something intense in the air between them that he fears will break if he moves, and so he's frozen in giddy expectation of what is to come. His heart yammers on in his chest, noisy like a church bell calling people for mass... except what Victor's heart calls for is far less pious.

Yuuri stands up and leans on one hand over the table, grabs Victor's chin with the other. He pulls Victor's face close – enough that Victor can feel Yuuri's hot breath on his wet lips. The thunder he suddenly hears must be the blood in his veins that burns at the touch of the God of Love.

"I'd let you," Yuuri says in a murmur that sounds like a purr.

It takes Victor a while to remember what Yuuri would let him do, but when his head catches up with what his heart is telling him, Victor's mouth parts on a weak break that leaves his lungs akin to a whine.

"Promise?" he asks, afraid that whatever dream he's having will disappear once the haze of alcohol clears.

It's still dark where they sit and there is no possible explanation for it, but Victor sees it: the way Yuuri's lips quirk in a smile that brings about an image of Eros gazing at a lovestruck fool from the chasm in his beloved's chest, in the place a living, beating heart should have been. The vision sticks with him, like that very first time it had, and when Yuuri's thumb presses against Victor's bottom lip, Victor knows he'd found what he has been yearning for.

_His muse._

"I promise," Yuuri says, and Victor sells himself to Eros: body and soul.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> preview of the next chapter:
> 
> Yuuri slips the coarse fabric of his shirt off his shoulders. Victor's mouth parts, dry, and he wets his lips with his tongue. He wishes he could–


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is only one tree that Victor wants to taste the food off, and its name is Yuuri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for day 3 of [@victuuri-week](http://victuuri-week.tumblr.com/), prompt victor: inspiration

 

"I almost believed you forgot your promise," Victor tells Yuuri a few days later when Yuuri shows up at his door with a smile and words of apology on his lips.

Yuuri looks just as beautiful, just as strong, and just as irresistible in daylight as he did in the darkness of the tavern and Victor feels the effect of that settle in his knees that weaken suddenly.

"I'm glad you're here," he says, opening the door further to let Yuuri inside. "I'll admit I could hardly wait, so I may have started a few things beforehand."

It is a severe understatement. If the room was littered with sketches before, now it's a treasure cave filled with drawings, paintings, and dozens upon dozens of sketches of Yuuri, _Eros_ , a gorgeous body trained in the way of the sword. Victor has to brush piles of parchment off his only chair to let Yuuri sit, but Yuuri doesn't seem to be bothered. He carefully looks around, admiration in his eyes as he picks a lone piece that presents a vivid vision of Yuuri's lower half.

He sets it back down with a blush that Victor finds too charming for words.

"So," Yuuri starts and clears his throat, "you wanted to paint me, yes? Isn't this all what it is? What do you need me for?"

Victor snaps into action faster than the bowstring does when the arrow lets loose. He steps over to one of the three canvas stands that clutter his space. It's covered with a scrap of linen that he'd recovered from a clothsmaker, but that is a needless fact. What's of importance is underneath and with eagerness of a child Victor guides Yuuri to it.

"I've made one just like it before for my patron, but make no mistake," he begins, fiddling with the edge of the linen, "you were the soul behind my art. I wanted to let you see this one before I allowed any other eyes to lay upon it."

In one fluid movement, he pulls off the linen that hides the _Eros of mutual desire_ , which has been drying day and night before this day. If he's to say so himself, it's his best piece he's ever painted. The awe in Yuuri's eyes is another thing Victor suddenly wishes to capture, when he turns around and sees it all directed at him: at his art, his artistic soul so vulnerably open for critique.

"That's–" Yuuri says and stops, and Victor sees him open his mouth and close it again, but not a word comes out.

"Do you like it?" Victor asks.

He turns to look at the painting critically and the things he could do better are jarring. Somehow, now that he's looking at it again, he isn't certain he should be as satisfied as he has been just a moment ago.

"I love it," Yuuri tells him, voice soft. "That is the most incredible thing I have ever seen. And you're telling me that I inspired it?"

"You did," Victor smiles, free of doubt. "And you're still inspiring me, even now as we speak. I– Yuuri, can I–"

He stops himself, covers the painting again so as not to damage it and with determination in his step walks up to Yuuri to take his rough, callused hands in his own paint-covered ones. Yuuri's beautiful eyes – they're brown, Victor realizes from that close – widen, but he doesn't pull back. He simply looks at Victor like he doesn't know what to expect and... Victor doesn't either, yet the words come anyway.

"Will you allow me to paint you again?" Victor asks. "Your body would be a perfect model for what I have in mind. And then, after that, I've always wanted to sculpt! My patron was receptive of my idea, so if you'd allow, I'd love for you to pose for me then, as well. And after–"

"Wait, wait!" Yuuri squeezes Victor's hands to stop the words that freely flow from his mouth as if he's lost control over it. Maybe he did, Victor thinks, maybe Yuuri makes him lose all reason. "Let us see how the painting goes first, yes? I have never done this kind of thing, so I cannot answer before we try it. What if I'm terrible at it?"

Victor sucks in a breath at that, offended. "You are not terrible at it."

"And how do you know?" Yuuri prods at him. When Victor doesn't reply, he smiles – and that smile charms Victor into giving him the world, if only he'd ask. "See, let us try the painting first. How do you want me?"

Every way, Victor thinks.

Any way you want to give yourself, Victor's heart beats.

"Take off your shirt, please," Victor's mouth says, ignoring the two. "I'd like to draw your back, if possible. Is that acceptable to you?"

Yuuri's blush appears on his face like a trick of light, but unlike such it stays there and Victor feasts his eyes so he can later try and mirror its likeness on canvas. He knows it would be a cheap imitation, but he'll make the effort, if only to see Yuuri smile at him again.

Yuuri slips the coarse fabric of his shirt off his shoulders. Victor's mouth parts, dry, and he wets his lips with his tongue. He wishes he could–

"Would you be offended if I touched you?" he asks, breathy. "I want to feel the muscle structure of your back, but if it is a bother then I will just–"

"It's alright," Yuuri says as he ducks his head.

His nape is as lovely as the rest of him, Victor notes. But his eyes don't linger there, not when he can look and touch till his artistic heart's content.

He moves his hands slow, over the expanse of the shoulders. The tips of his fingers touch Yuuri's collarbones, the hard protrusions among the muscle mass, when he wraps his hands around the juncture of his neck. Yuuri's skin isn't soft: it's worked, bruised in places, a skin of a man who works with his body to earn his bread. Victor respects it, and respects it more when his hands skim over the edges of the scars that litter Yuuri's body like paper litters Victor's room.

He slides his thumbs into the slots of Yuuri's shoulder blades, rubs at them to feel around. All the while, his eyes trace the subtle shift of muscle – it's enchanting. Yuuri's body responds to his touch on instinct and when Victor touches a bone, Yuuri shifts to accommodate him. When Victor lets his fingers dip into Yuuri's spine, Yuuri arches his back, a graceful, practiced move that takes Victor's heart gallivanting through his chest at a speed no horse would find shame in.

The room is silent apart from their breathing, something that feels sacred. Victor is afraid of breaking it, so he bites his lip and keeps the compliments he wants to spill onto Yuuri's skin to himself. There will be a time for that later, he hopes. And with these hopes, he begins to paint.

Yuuri never moves, never speaks. He stands there unmovable like a statue. Victor watches the light change behind his tiny window and cast long shadows over the pane of Yuuri's back, like claws of a deadly animal that wants to tear the swordsman's life away. Victor knows that no beast could match Yuuri, though. His body is strong, and his skill must be so as well, he guesses from the tavern fight. Any beast should be wary to approach someone so strong, and if not – someone so beautiful.

It's almost with regret that Victor sets down his paintbrush.

"That will be all for today," he says. "Do you want to see?"

Yuuri circles around him and the heat of his body is so close to Victor that he involuntarily shifts in his spot to lean a little closer.

"It's beautiful," Yuuri whispers, awed again.

"That's because you are so," Victor replies, and Yuuri's cheeks flush once more.

From this distance, with only centimetres separating them, Victor realizes: it's the colour of peaches, ripe for the taking. And _oh_ , Victor wants to take them and bite until the sweet juices of the forbidden fruit flow onto his tongue and take him to paradise.

"Can you meet me again tomorrow?" he asks, hushed.

Just as hushed, as reverent it seems, Yuuri says: "Yes."

When Yuuri leaves that day, as the sun sets down over the horizon, Victor has a head filled with him and a couple dozen of new ideas he cannot wait to implement. For the first time in what feels to be like a lifetime, he is looking forward to tomorrow: to another day of breathing the wonders of his muse into the world.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> preview of the next chapter:
> 
> Emboldened, Victor's hand travels down, where his thumb slides over the line of Yuuri's jaw, and up, over the plush of his softly parted lips.


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor prays for courage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for day 4 of [@victuuri-week](http://victuuri-week.tumblr.com/), prompt: free

 

It's as Victor finishes the last corrections to the painting of no title yet, but which he wishes to call simply _Yuuri_ , he gathers the courage to look behind the canvas at his stunning model and ask:

"Would you like to go out of town with me tomorrow?"

Yuuri is startled for one breathless moment of expectation, when Victor feels his heart pulse in his throat like a creature captured within a net of his body, but then Yuuri smiles a beautiful smile that softens his face into sweetness so pure that Victor mellows at the edges despite his nerves.

"Where are we going?" Yuuri asks back.

He moves slowly to put his shirt back on. Victor mourns it, but his eyes take in the mirror of Yuuri's perfectly built body on his canvas and the loss feels slightly less. The piece looks lovely: Yuuri stands there in his bare room, sword in hand, profile hard and back strong as the soft sunlight caresses his skin from the open window and paints him golden.

If Victor wasn't smitten with him already, he'd surely be by now.

"Is that really me?" Yuuri asks after a while when Victor doesn't reply to his question and simply continues to stare at his newest work. Yuuri stops at his side and the warmth of his body feels like he's standing next to a sun, which Victor doesn't find far from the truth for his entire being seems to orbit around Yuuri from the day they met. "I can hardly believe it. You're a very talented artist, Victor."

At that, Victor smiles. He shakes his head, tilts it up to grin at Yuuri.

"I only paint what I see, and what I see is you – beautiful and strong," he says.

Yuuri's cheeks tint with that precious peach hue of his flush. Satisfaction burns in Victor's chest, a slow simmer that turns into an all engulfing flame when Yuuri rests his hand on the small of Victor's back.

"Stop teasing me," Yuuri says. His fingers pinch at Victor's skin through his shirt, but Victor only feels overwhelming happiness at the intimacy they now share. "And tell me where we're going."

"Let's say it's a surprise," Victor replies, unable to hold back his smile. He leans against Yuuri and wraps his arm around his shoulders to pull him close. "Say, what do you think of posing for me again? I really enjoyed this, so can we do it again?"

Yuuri's eyes are bright and lovely as he turns his head to say: "If you're willing to have me."

And Victor does not hesitate when he says back, "Always."

They meet the next morning two hours after first light. Victor has filled a donkey drawn cart with food and his painting materials, so when Yuuri shows up, he tells him to hop on and snaps the whip hard above the animal's rear. The pace they move at is slow, but it doesn't bother either of them once they pass the town walls – the nature is welcoming, the day is warm and the air smells sweetly of summer.

"The wind feels so nice today," Yuuri says, resting against the side of the cart.

His head is arched back, eyes closed, lips curled in bliss. Victor's hands loosen on the reins as his gaze travels down the column of Yuuri's throat that stands pale against the sunshine. He's beautiful, so beautiful it is hard to look away.

"I'm glad the weather is good," Victor gives in reply. He swallows through his dry throat. "We can enjoy ourselves until the sun sets."

"And you still won't tell me where we're headed?" Yuuri asks, rolling his head to look at Victor who cannot help but swoon at the casual grace in it. Yuuri seems to have no idea what he's doing to him, because he smiles a little and takes Victor's heart away with it.

"We're almost there, you'll see soon," Victor tells him just as they begin to climb uphill. "We stop at the top."

"And what's on the top?" Yuuri asks.

He climbs over the back of the cart and sits next to Victor on the tiny seat meant for one. Their thighs press up close. Victor's heart speeds up like a rabbit chased by a wolf, but this time there's no wolf: there's only Yuuri and his happy grin, his closeness and his eyes.

"Nothing," Victor says, and laughs at the face Yuuri makes.

He knows that Yuuri probably thinks he's playing with him, but he isn't. And when they reach the top, understanding replaces the half-glare in Yuuri's eyes. Victor stops the cart and lets the donkey loose, and then he takes Yuuri's hand – even if his blood thunders in his ears when their palms brush – to pull him away from the road and into the field of grass that spreads as far as the eye can see.

In the middle of it, he stops, lets go of Yuuri and spreads his arms as he twirls around with a grin.

"We're here," he says.

And promptly falls back into the grass.

Yuuri laughs. "So this is your big surprise? Lying in the grass for an entire day?"

Victor grins up at him.

"Better," he says and points a finger up, at the sky full of shapely clouds. "We can watch the clouds and sleep, and laugh – all free of charge!"

Yuuri laughs again as he plops down next to him.

"You're ridiculous, master painter," he tells Victor.

"Why, thank you, master swordsman," Victor replies, and this time they laugh together.

The clouds above them move leisurely through the sky and they point at the different colours, laugh at the shapes, grin at each other's laughter. It's warm, but with a different kind of warmth that is not entirely physical – it's the kind of warmth that Victor remembers feeling from his mother's smiles. It's soothing. It's filling. It's...

"Do you ever imagine how freeing it must be to fly?" Yuuri asks, voice lazy. "When the wind carries you away from danger and trouble?"

I would take you to the skies right now, if only I could, Victor thinks.

He looks up with wonder. The way birds fly... could humans fly like that, too? Of course, the wings would have to be proportionally bigger, but in theory, could it be possible? Could he make it happen; build a manmade invention, wings made of human intellect, persistence and inspiration that would be able to take a man into the air like he was born with wings?

His heart flutters in his chest like a bird that wants the freedom of flight, and Victor yearns.

He turns to Yuuri, finally ready to reply, but he finds him fast asleep. There can be hardly any fault found in him, because the weather is lovely and the wind smells of earth and grass, so Victor swallows back his words. He lets himself look at Yuuri freely, though.

At his eyelashes that cast shadows onto his cheeks. At his lips, dry and bitten, but shapely and tempting. At his hair that now is mussed and where loose strands of grass have found a home...

Without much of his conscious effort, Victor's hand lifts to brush some of them away. Yuuri stirs, inching his face into Victor's hand and with batted breath, Victor lets it rest there. Yuuri's cheek is warm and soft; it feels like he's touching something sacred there. A piece of Yuuri's soul or heart, maybe.

Victor swipes a thumb under Yuuri's eye, traces it over the cheekbone and rubs it on Yuuri's temple. Yuuri doesn't wake up. Emboldened, Victor's hand travels down, where his thumb slides over the line of Yuuri's jaw, and up, over the plush of his softly parted lips. Even then, Yuuri doesn't wake, which gives Victor a bout of fluttering courage.

He leans forward, tastes his heartbeat on his tongue, and almost presses his lips to Yuuri's, but the clouds cover up the sun for that one fleeting moment and Victor's courage disappears along with it. He pushes himself away from Yuuri, falls into the grass and curls in on himself to allow a pitiful whine to leave his throat.

He's a coward, he knows.

But as scared of taking that last step as he is, he is no thief. Taking something so precious from Yuuri while he was unawares would be considered stealing, if not worse, and it is not something Victor could do with clear conscience.

Next time, he thinks to himself as he looks up at the sky again.

Next time, he prays for courage.

And the sun peeks from the sky to shine down on him with hope.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> preview of the next chapter:
> 
> "If I succeed, you must think of something to reward me with," he tells Yuuri, tapping his own lips with a finger.


	5. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor gets the courage to fly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for day 5 of [@victuuri-week](http://victuuri-week.tumblr.com/), prompt au: fantasy   
> and day 1 of [@yoimythologyweek](https://yoimythologyweek.tumblr.com/), prompt: icarus
> 
> are myths even considered fantasy...???? hmm

 

Yuuri laughs at Victor's newfound obsession with birds and all things flying. He laughs when Victor admits to the reason for it, as well.

"Silly man," he calls him. "I never meant for you to try to build a machine that would allow flight."

"Well, you're getting it anyway," Victor tells him, and that has Yuuri laughing again.

Victor loves the sound of his laughter. It fills the air and his heart with warmth and happiness, and makes Victor's own lips quirk in a smile. He knows that he is far from being objective, since no matter what Yuuri would do Victor would say he's beautiful, but when he's laughing, Yuuri is just that much more radiant. Victor cannot resist him and, like a fool, he'll do everything in his might to keep Yuuri's laughter vibrant for as long as humanly possible.

Until they grow old together, maybe. And even after.

It takes almost two months of observations, drafts, models, tryouts and improvements before Victor is close to certain that he's got it this time. The skeleton is made of wood, the body of the wings of linen – this is the combination he's bet his life upon as he and Yuuri venture through the countryside to the lake behind the second hill.

"Are you certain it will work?" Yuuri asks once more as Victor straps the wings to his back.

This is the first time he's brought Yuuri along, because he trusts it will be the one when he succeeds. Needless to say, Yuuri's concern is touching and makes tying the straps to his arms that much more difficult, since Victor's fingers tremble from joy and excitement.

"There is no foolproof guarantee," Victor gives, shooting Yuuri a grin. "But I'm convinced that today is the day man will learn to fly, one way or another."

Yuuri only looks at him, lip worried between his teeth.

"What if it doesn't succeed? It's quite a drop from here."

They both look down the cliff that hovers over the expanse of the lake that is so big, you can't see where it ends. Victor swallows his fears at the thought of taking a cold bath in the lake's waters, but smiles, still.

"If you don't believe in me then I'm certain I'll fail," he jokes, but Yuuri's face remains serious.

Yuuri helps him get the strap on his waist tight enough so it doesn't slip. His hands are trembling, too, Victor notices and somehow that is more endearing than anything else. Victor's worries settle into a warm, comforting feeling of his assured love and dedication to his beloved muse.

"I believe in you," Yuuri says. He finally lifts his head and looks Victor in the eye. "I believe that you're enough of a lunatic to make this possible."

Victor barks a laugh. "That was not kind at all, Yuuri."

The small smile Yuuri offers him, however, is fully worth suffering any insult.

"If I succeed, you must think of something to reward me with," he tells Yuuri, tapping his own lips with a finger.

Yuuri's face reddens at the gesture, or whatever he thinks of for the reward, and Victor enjoys it for a fleeting moment before he turns back towards the lake.

"Well, there I go."

He runs at full speed towards the edge of the cliff and then – he jumps.

And as he jumps, the wind blows up his body, fills the linen he'd nailed to the wooden skeleton and _he flies_.

The trees, the water, the stones... It all passes by him fast, faster than any horse could carry him. Wide-eyed and triumphant, Victor whoops for joy. He can't look behind himself to see what kind of face Yuuri is making, but if it's anything like the elated incredulity in Victor's chest, he wants to see it.

He moves his arm a little, like birds move their wings to even out the flight, but that seems to be a mistake. Something in the construction gives and Victor only hears a creek before the linen rips behind his back and he begins falling with a scream that is more surprise than terror.

He hits the water back first, falling like a sack of potatoes onto the stones. The wings bend against the surface hard enough that the tender wood cracks under the pressure. Victor's breath has already been taken away on impact, but then a piece of the ruined construction knocks Victor on the side of the head and he thinks he must have lost consciousness for a moment there, because when he comes to he's choking on lake water that's gotten into his mouth and a steady arm around his waist is hauling him back to shore.

On dry land he coughs and spits and heaves heavy breaths, but he's alive. His heart is thumping fast in his chest, hard, relentless. It's almost without his will that his head rolls to the side to see Yuuri lying in the sand next to him: just as wet, just as tired.

"Did–" Victor rasps and has to cough more water out before he can continue. "Did you jump after me?"

"Of course I did!" Yuuri gives him a glare, unhappy that Victor could suggest he'd let him drown. "You're going through all of this for me, how could I ever let you die for it?"

He must have lost all reason, Victor knows, but he cannot help it when he hears such honest truth from Yuuri's mouth – he leans forward and captures Yuuri's wet lips with his own. Yuuri's frozen for a terrifying second, during which Victor's heart jumps into his throat and beats around his chest like a tiny animal trying to break free. Charmed by a single touch, it settles the moment Yuuri's hand grabs the back of Victor's head and Yuuri's lips kiss him back with as much fervour.

One kiss turns into two, that into three, and more. Victor knows they should talk, but once he has been given permission, he doesn't care about words anymore. All the days he's spent dreaming of this, all the hours he's given to drawing the perfection that he was worshipping with his lips now... it all comes fruitful as he slides his tongue into Yuuri's hot mouth and a groan leaves them both.

His heart's thunder is loud again in his ears and he's short of breath, but he doesn't want to stop. Not even when all his breath leaves him. Yuuri, however, pulls away with heavy breaths and Victor's lips land against his soft cheek. It's wet and tastes of lake water, and it makes Victor laugh.

"I think I should die more often," he says, "if it gets me the courage needed to do this."

Yuuri's cheeks stand aflame before his eyes and he looks like a precious gem that Victor wants to be the only one to possess.

"But if you die, you won't get to do it again," Yuuri warns him. "So don't die, Victor."

Victor takes one of Yuuri's hands and rests it palm flat over his beating heart, light and overjoyed.

"I won't die," he vows. And smiles. "But did you see that? Right before I fell, I–"

"You flew," Yuuri finishes for him, a brilliant smile on his lips. They were red, a beautiful cherry red that reminded Victor of summer and sweetness as they moved and the urge to kiss him again was overwhelming. "You really did it, Victor."

I did, Victor thought.

He flew in the sky, if only for a moment.

I really did it, he thought.

He kissed Yuuri, just as he wished to do for so long.

And now his chest feels full to bursting.

"Ah," he sighs. "I'm so happy..."

Yuuri's soft chuckle is his only reply before strong arms pull Victor close. Yuuri holds him tight, their hearts pressed to the opposite sides of their chests, but beating rapidly as one.

"I'm happy for you as well," Yuuri tells him in a soft voice, and Victor has another thought.

Death could come for me right now and I would go with no regrets, he thinks. No regrets, except for–

He turns his head and shifts Yuuri's with one hand to find his lips and press another kiss to them. Any minute he isn't kissing Yuuri from this moment on, is a minute lost, he decides, giving his heart and reason over to the god of love that has captured him fully at last.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> preview of the next chapter:
> 
> Every now and then, Victor looks up from his paper and sees Yuuri breathe softly, deep in his sleep, and his heart swells in his chest with love.


	6. VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so, the great adventure begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for day 6 of [@victuuri-week](http://victuuri-week.tumblr.com/), prompt au: sci-fi  
> and day 2 of [@yoimythologyweek](https://yoimythologyweek.tumblr.com/), prompt: norse mythology  
> the prompts are treated v lightly!

 

Yuuri's arm is a comforting weight where it's slung over Victor's naked back, while Yuuri's warm cheek is pressed against Victor's arm like he needs the comfort of his touch even in his sleep. Victor is trying to sketch with his other hand, but it's difficult when Yuuri's sweet face is so distracting. Every now and then, Victor looks up from his paper and sees Yuuri breathe softly, deep in his sleep, and his heart swells in his chest with love. It's only been a few months since they met, but even in the very beginnings of their friendship Victor knew that this person would be someone special to him, he just didn't know how much he'd come to care about him.

And he cares a frightening lot.

With a little smile, Victor turns back to his sketch. The tree Victor is drawing is a messy scrawl of lines, branches and leaves, each different from one another. He found it in one of the ancient tomes in Yakov's library, bound in worn leather and metal that has rusted over the many years. It was a simple schematic draft, but ever since Victor saw it he couldn't help the feeling that settled deep in his heart: like he was supposed to find it.

He asked Yakov about it, later.

"It talks about a mythical tree, Yggrasil," Yakov told him after he finished reproving him for lurking around the library without permission. "It is believed by the people of the north that our world is not the only one out there in the vastness of space. They call it the universe tree – the one that unites the worlds, for its branches each hold a different one."

Victor's eyes lit up at that and Yakov must have noticed it, because he followed his explanation with a scowl: "It isn't real, boy. Forget it and get back to work."

But Victor couldn't do that. Forget a concept so outstanding his mind could hardly wrap itself around it? Yakov was asking for impossible.

Since then, the tree Yggdrasil has been on Victor's breath almost as much as Yuuri. He talks to everyone about it, whoever wants to hear it: Chris, who only rolls his eyes at him; Phichit, who indulges him only out of politeness; Yakov's little grandson, who scoffs at him and calls him a dimwit for believing in myths; even the child's tutor, Georgi, who is the only one to see the true romance of the adventure; but because most of his days Victor spends at Yuuri's side... it means that the one who suffers the most from Victor's deliberations is Yuuri himself.

Victor would feel bad, except everything is fascinating, engaging, _new_. The ideas pop into his mind like buds do on the trees in spring. How can Victor stop it when the well of unknown potential is hidden right there, ready for him to draw from endlessly? He wants to tap into it and share all of it with the one person who seems to care about anything that Victor tells him, no matter how trivial.

It's one of the many, many things that Victor has come to love about Yuuri so deeply.

He finishes pencilling in the leaves on the final of the nine branches and looks at Yuuri again. The sun is slowly rising, chasing away the greyness of dawn and basking the room in soft light. It sneaks through the small window and rests on Yuuri's face like a golden veil, painting him in otherworldly grace. Victor drops the paper and pencil off the bed and slides closer, so he can press his lips over the places where the warmth lingers on Yuuri's skin.

Yuuri stirs just when Victor reaches the top of his shoulder and his eyes blink open, hazy with sleep. He smiles, lovely and drowsy, and Victor smiles back when he feels Yuuri's arm move around him. A palm slides up his back to push him closer and into a real kiss, which he gives into happily and answers with one of his own.

"Did you wake at the break of dawn again?" Yuuri asks once they part.

Victor's smile turns sheepish.

"My mind was otherwise occupied," he replies and it is only partially a lie.

"The tree again," Yuuri says with fond certainty like he knows the answer without having to ask. "Say, do you think it actually exists? In this world? A gateway to other worlds?"

"I don't know," Victor admits, resting at Yuuri's side and looking in his warm eyes. "But wouldn't it be a spectacular thing to see, if it does?"

"Are you going to find it?" Yuuri asks again, smiling. "If it's you, I know you can do it."

Heat travels up his face and Victor feels his cheeks flush. "Your faith in me is touching, my Yuuri, but I do not think I'm capable. It's only a myth, after all."

Except the thought doesn't leaves his mind for months and the aimless sketches turn into maps, charts, calculations and calibrations, coordinates, names of places and lands... He spends more time in Yakov's library than he does painting, but Yakov only raises an eyebrow at him when Victor says he's searching for inspiration and says nothing more of the fact. Yuuri doesn't mind it either – he simply sits behind Victor as he works, wraps his arms around him and dozes while Victor tries to find the impossible.

It's during one of those times when Victor comes across it: a note of a cave that leads deep into the ground where the tree Yggdrasil is said to grow not outwards to the skies but _down_ , into the very crust of the earth. So startled is he by his discovery, that Victor sits up straight. It jostles Yuuri off his back and, with a yelp, Yuuri falls onto the scattering of the papers around them.

"What? What's 'appened?" he asks, only partially awake.

"I think I found it," Victor says, awestruck. He lifts his gaze and looks at Yuuri. "I think I found the universe tree."

The change is instant: Yuuri's face brightens with a grin. "When are we going?"

"We probably shouldn't," Victor tells him, even if he feels the excitement of the adventure settle his bones atremble. "We know nothing about it. It could be dangerous. I would hardly want to bring you to any place where you could be harmed."

"Don't treat me like some damsel, Victor," Yuuri chides him with a frown. "It is I, between us, who can wield a sword, is it not? If any harm could meet us, I promise I'll keep both of us safe, so let's go. Let's do this!"

He's radiant and young, so eager for the taste of the unknown that Victor's heart answers the call of his smile without even asking for Victor's permission. It gives itself away freely and Victor is only helpless to look into Yuuri's brown eyes that gaze into his pleadingly, soft with affection and adoration at the edges.

How could Victor ever deny such a gaze anything?

"Let's see where the journey your brilliant mind devised takes us, shall we?" Yuuri says, and smiles, and kisses Victor once before he lifts up to kiss his forehead almost as if he wants to press a tender kiss right to the very body of his mind in thanks.

Helpless, Victor smiles and gives into his beloved's whim.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> preview of the next chapter:
> 
> "We should be nomads," he tells Yuuri one night when the small fire they have going burns low as they both rest on their bunched up cloaks and look into the starry sky. "Lead our lives while we travel. Wouldn't that be the best adventure of all?"


	7. VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because, sometimes, what seems to be the end is only the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for day 7 of [@victuuri-week](http://victuuri-week.tumblr.com/), prompt victor: journeys  
> and day 3 of [@yoimythologyweek](https://yoimythologyweek.tumblr.com/), prompt: reincarnation

 

It takes two weeks for them to travel to the land where Victor has found the universe tree. They stop at villages and towns on the way, taste new food and drink, share stories with fellow travellers... It is the most fun Victor remembers having in his life. Part of it is because of the excitement of the journey and the sights he's never seen before, nor would he ever if Yuuri didn't convince him to leave the safety of the town they were born in. The other part, however, is Yuuri himself – his bright, curious eyes that search the world for something and that overwhelmingly gorgeous smile that graces his lips once he finds it; Victor can't get enough of it.

"We should be nomads," he tells Yuuri one night when the small fire they have going burns low as they both rest on their bunched up cloaks and look into the starry sky. "Lead our lives while we travel. Wouldn't that be the best adventure of all?"

"Sleep on the grass or in stables for the rest of our lives?" Yuuri asks back. "It may sound nice now when we're young, but imagine your old bones grinding on the hard ground when you're older."

Victor purses his lips.

"My Yuuri always says such unpleasant things," he sniffles. "Carpe diem, my love! Live in the moment! Who's to say we will even live till the age where our bones hurt from a little nap in the grass?"

"Didn't you promise me you wouldn't die?" Yuuri reminds him of that day they first kissed and Victor feels chagrined.

"Well... I did," he agrees. A little flush makes it onto his cheeks at the memory of Yuuri's sweet lips on his, which he quickly chases away, lest he gets swayed from the focus of the conversation. "But this is a different matter entirely."

"It isn't," Yuuri tells him, and turns his starlit eyes to gaze in Victor's own. "You can't die before me, Victor."

He lifts himself up to hover above Victor. His face covers Victor's view of the sky, but the rest of the stars make a regal crown that sits atop Yuuri's dark hair – a brilliant vision of nature's love for his Yuuri's beauty. For a second Victor wishes for a canvas and paint and brushes, so he can capture this moment forever, yet he decides against it when Yuuri dips his head down to touch their foreheads in a gesture filled with affection.

Some things, Victor decides, gazing in Yuuri's warm eyes, are better left only in his heart's fond memory.

"If we die," Yuuri says, whisper quiet as the wind, "we die together, my love."

"In life and in death, together," Victor repeats.

His lips tremble when he presses his promise against Yuuri's, but the tender touch of Yuuri's hands and the warmth of his body atop of Victor's settle all tremors in his soul. He gives into Yuuri with no resistance, and only the stars are there to witness it, even though Victor would not mind showing the entire world the strength and dedication of his love.

In the early morning, they saddle their horses and make their way through the forest until they find the cave that the locals call 'the abyss'. The way down is dark and the deeper they go, the more slippery the rocks become with moss and humidity of the air that breathes through the earth. Yuuri's hand is clasping at Victor's hard, as if he's afraid that if he lets go they'll get lost, separated, never to find each other in the dark maze of the underground labyrinth they've entered.

Time passes strangely below the surface: it feels like hours have gone by when Victor knows it couldn't have been more than a couple of minutes. A torch that Victor has lit before they made it inside is their only light; it's flame flickers every now and then in the small gusts of wind that show them the path.

And so, they walk, and walk, and walk... until suddenly Yuuri halts and pulls Victor back. Victor stumbles into Yuuri's chest, but a strong arm wraps around his waist to steady him.

"Look!" Yuuri gasps into Victor's ear. "There!"

Victor looks around, unsure of where _there_ is. It's only darkness all around. But then, slowly, as he looks away from the torch flame and his eyes get used to the permeating blackness, he seems to realize what Yuuri means. _There_ , in the far distance, the shadows seem to move as if something's there, but it's too far to be a trick of light that falls from their torch.

"Do you think that's it?" Yuuri asks in a whisper.

Victor turns his head to grin at him. "Only one way to find out."

They move forwards and get as close as courage allows. Victor's heartbeat is as rapid as it was that first time he wanted to kiss Yuuri, but now it fills his body with fear more primal and instinctual than he's ever felt before. His hand, which Yuuri's grasping so hard that Victor can hardly feel his numb fingers anymore, is sweaty with nerves.

He swallows hard and turns to Yuuri; gives the decision over to him freely.

"Should we go further?" he asks.

Yuuri hesitates, but eventually he replies, "We've come this far. It would be a shame to turn tail now."

And so, they step into the moving shadows together.

And together they fall.

Their two screams join into one expression of horror. Victor tries to get closer to Yuuri, to hold onto him as best as he can, but the cold air whistling in his ears pulls them apart and Yuuri's hand slips out of his grasp.

"Yuuri!" he shouts, desperate. "Yuuri!"

"Victor!"

Yuuri's voice sounds like it's close, yet at the same time it sounds like it's coming from far away. Victor's heart squeezes at the thought that he's brought Yuuri all the way here just to meet their doom, but that and all other thoughts are washed out of his mind when the darkness disperses before his eyes and the falling comes to a stop with a lurch that makes something rise up his throat.

He opens up his mouth to let it out, but what comes out is nothing like Victor expected: it's a piercing cry of a newborn child and it takes Victor a desperately long moment to realize that it's his own voice that is screaming.

The world is thrust into brightness so overwhelming that he closes his eyes against it. His cries are loud, but all the other noise is muffled as if there is water in his ears. The fear of moments before isn't yet gone and that only gives more passion to his cries.

Yuuri, Victor thinks, where's Yuuri?

He forces his eyes to open and despite the pain, despite the brightness, he fights to see. The need to find Yuuri is far more compelling than any of his own hurts. Slowly, the brightness fades into something tolerable and Victor gets a first look at his surroundings. But what he sees... it cannot possibly be.

A woman's face looks down at him, fatigued, yet smiling, and it is big. A woman this big should not exist. A woman this big...

"Welcome to the world, little one," the woman says, touching his cheek with a finger. "I'm your mama."

Victor's mouth falls open and he screams again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> preview of the next chapter:
> 
> Tears fall from Yuuri's eyes as he stands before him in the flesh, and he smiles.  
> "Hello, Victor," he says.


	8. VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best way to find something is to stop looking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for day 8 of [@victuuri-week](http://victuuri-week.tumblr.com/), prompt au: soulmates  
> and day 4 of [@yoimythologyweek](https://yoimythologyweek.tumblr.com/), prompt: free

 

"The appearance of Marks is a slow process that takes place over many years," the teacher explains to them, standing at the small dais at the front of the class. "One day, you will notice a smudge somewhere on your skin that won't be possible to remove – that's how the Marks begin to show. Over time the smudge clears and forms letters that are the name of your soulmate."

Victor sits in the third row, next to a freckled girl and a ginger-haired boy, aged seven in body, but his soul is old – much older than anyone seems to think. It takes him months to realize what must have happened and it takes him even longer to stop mourning for the past that was his only present. It takes him even longer, still, to move on and focus on the future.

They must have found the universe tree, Yggdrasil, Victor reasons, and unknowingly moved to another realm: another of its branches. In the process, they seem to have lost their bodies, the mortal shells that contained their souls and thus... have died. Only to be reborn as infants again, holding their memories and minds intact. That was what happened to Victor, so he ventured a guess that it was also what must have happened to Yuuri.

Desperately, longingly, he still prays to be so.

Maybe, Victor thinks, maybe there is a way for them to get back. Yet, for it to be possible, he needs to find Yuuri in this new world and lead him to the tree once more. With his age reversed it seems like it will take him years to accomplish the first, but his parents seem to have found his fascination with the myth of the universe tree 'quite adorable' and indulge his, in their eyes, innocent quest. Their lenience if fruitful, and so, seven years after the rebirth, Victor makes the discovery once more.

The knowledge of where to find Yggdrasil, however, is useless to him without Yuuri. And for that he must wait, since there is no acceptable way for him to come up to the people who brought him into this world, loving, caring people who never deny him anything, and ask them to leave home at the tender age of seven to find his lost lover from a past life.

Instead, he plays the role of a small child in a performance that no actor would find shame in and sits through his life's journey impatient, but also curious – for this world is far different from the one he once knew. The times have progressed far, it seems, but that isn't all. The major difference between this world and the one Victor still remembers is in the general principle of two people joining together for life on the basis of the marks that show upon their bodies: the Marks of soulmates, two pieces of the same soul that have been parted upon birth and thus must join later on in life.

"Ms. Kotsky?" A girl behind Victor lifts a hand. "Is there a surname, too?"

The teacher shakes her head. "There isn't. Only their given name."

"How do we find them then?" The girl frowns. "Is it the first person we meet who has that name?"

The teacher shakes her head no once more.

"It isn't as simple, Lena. You might meet five people who share that name during your lifetime and neither of them could be your soulmate. The key to finding them is in your Mark. You see, when soulmates touch, their Mark glows red."

"Oh, like the colour of love," another girl says, and the teacher smiles.

"Exactly," she agrees, and turns her eyes back to the girl behind Victor. "That's how you know which person is your soulmate."

The children ahh and ohh, but Victor's mind is focused on a different thing. Is Yuuri his soulmate? He wants it to be true, he wants it to be real. Victor's body is baren of a Mark as of yet, and he prays it is Yuuri's when he gets one, but even if it isn't, his heart is already set on having no one else but Yuuri. And so is Victor's soul, as it has been even in the world before this.

It isn't until Victor is ten that the first signs of a Mark show on his hip. He is twelve when it fully sinks into his skin and the joy he feels is overbearing. The Mark is small, but to Victor it's everything, because in a tiny scrawl it says _Yuuri_. It gives him hope that one day they will meet and match their Marks, souls, and bodies once more.

With that hope locked safely in his heart, he tries to live his life like a normal person and lets the fates guide him. He tries painting again, but the craft he'd once loved feels alien to his new hands. They don't seem to move how they used to and after a few years of frustration, Victor hangs up his brushes to never return.

What catches his eye instead of that is a book of poems, which he reads from cover to cover in a single afternoon. It stirs something deep in his soul, something that he only remembers stirring when Yuuri was around, and it is the very next day that Victor begs his parents for another. They comply, as they always do, and that is how Victor's journey into poetry begins.

He writes his first poem that same week, publishes a book within a year, and in five – he's one of the best read artists of the craft at only eighteen years old. All his longing, all his love, every little thing he can recall about Yuuri; he puts it all into his writing.

The smiles that Yuuri used to give him when they awakened in the middle of the night Victor likened to the beauty of aurora borealis spreading across the sky with wondrous that lit up the darkness of his aimless existence. The warmth of love entrapped within Yuuri's eyes he matched against the chilling winter winds that ripped apart his clothing and dried out his skin, but the feeling shining through Yuuri's eyes kept him safe and sheltered from it all. The touch of Yuuri's hands, his lips, his skin over Victor's he compares to sunshine that kisses him softly, but can burn as easily if he isn't careful, yet he doesn't want to be – because love like theirs is not meant for cautious people; it is all engulfing and reckless, and it sets every fibre of his being atremble with how much he'd do if only Yuuri asked.

As he writes, Victor lives through his memories and remembers it all. Secretly, he fills more journals with the prose of his life: begins a diary of sorts. The writing passes him time, but even then he cannot deny that he misses his painting, misses his inventions, misses _Yuuri_ most of anything...

It is when Victor is twenty that a traveller visits him in his rented flat above a hat maker's. The knocking on the door is eager and insistent as it draws Victor away from another poem that speaks of his loneliness that swallows him like a void of the unknown new world that he now has to live in without his beloved. Annoyed that he has to stop midverse, Victor stomps to the door and throws it open–

–only to be met with the same wide-eyed love that he now feels overtake him completely.

"Yuuri," he whispers and his voice finally, _finally_ sounds like his own.

Tears fall from Yuuri's eyes as he stands before him in the flesh, and he smiles.

"Hello, Victor," he says. He lifts the small book he's clutching in both of his hands and Victor recognizes it as the first one he's written to print. "Am I interrupting? I just wanted to ask you to sign your name for me."

Victor laughs, stepping forward to envelop Yuuri in his arms, and as he does – he vows to never again let him go. Yuuri's body is different, it feels different, but there is something achingly familiar about him that helps Victor settle into him with no trouble.

"I will sign whatever you want me to," Victor tells him, aware of the dampness of his eyes. "But the most important sign you should already have on your skin, right?"

Yuuri's lips press against Victor's neck where he's buried his face, hot, cordial, grounding. He says nothing, but Victor feels his answer in his own burning heart, which flutters in his chest and repeats what Yuuri wants to say: _I'm yours, always and forever_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> preview of the next chapter:
> 
> "If I'm by your side, it matters not where we are, what world, what universe, what life." Victor brings their foreheads together. "All I wish for is to see you happy, my love."


	9. IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eternity is a lonely word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for day 5 of [@yoimythologyweek](https://yoimythologyweek.tumblr.com/), prompt: star-crossed lovers  
> enjoy the pain yall ;3c

 

"You found it?" Yuuri asks, lifting his head from where it rests on Victor's chest, right over his beating heart. "The tree?"

Victor smiles at him, nods, and takes the opportunity to touch his hand to Yuuri's cheek. He's been content just holding Yuuri in his arms as they lied in Victor's bed soon after their tearful reunion, but after so many years of not seeing his face, he simply can't resist.

Yuuri hasn't changed at all – his face is still the same, hair as black as ink, eyes a touching, warm brown. His cheeks are rounded slightly, but they are soft and rosy, and Victor loves them. He also loves Yuuri's lips, yet those he'd love no matter the shape or form they take, he guesses.

"Does that mean we could just... go back?" Yuuri asks, angling his face to press a kiss against Victor's palm. Victor's heart aches delightfully in his chest when he replies:

"We could pack and go even today, if that is something you wish."

He watches how Yuuri bites his lips for just a moment before he can't stand the temptation and lifts up to steal a kiss. Yuuri falls into him as easily as he has in their past life and if Victor focuses only on the feeling of Yuuri's skin against his own he can pretend that nothing has changed, that they are still back in his cramped room filled with sketches and the smell of paints.

"Over the years, I've been doing a lot of thinking," Yuuri tells him as he slides onto the pillow next to Victor's head to let their gazes meet comfortably. "This world, it isn't half bad. It's different, for sure, but after living here for so long, wouldn't coming back feel like this, too? I– Victor, as long as we're together, I don't mind where we live, and it might be here as well."

Victor's heart beats in alignment to Yuuri's words. That is his only wish as well, it has always been. So he leans into Yuuri and wraps him in an embrace that he knows means as much to Yuuri as it does to him, and says:

"If I'm by your side, it matters not where we are, what world, what universe, what life." Victor brings their foreheads together. "All I wish for is to see you happy, my love."

And that's what they are – for many, many years to come they lead their lives in peace and harmony, enjoying each other's company and the new possibilities they've been presented with. Victor's poetry brings enough money for them to afford necessities and small pleasures every once in a while, but even then the biggest pleasure for Victor is seeing Yuuri smile. Almost like his new eyes are starved for the sight of it, like his new body doesn't yet know the beauty, he drinks in every little thing that makes up Yuuri, and falls in love with him anew.

The days they spend together fill Victor with happiness so deep and fulfilling that he can hardly want for anything else. He kisses Yuuri's lips in the mornings, his temples at noon – even when they begin to gray at the roots. In the evenings, he presses kisses to Yuuri's cheeks, into the smile lines that show with the passing of time. And at night, he rests his head next to Yuuri's, close enough to allow their bodies to share heat, and gazes into his eyes that remain as young, as beautiful as the first time Victor looked into them.

One day, when Victor's eyes finally fall shut to the sight of Yuuri sleeping soundly on the pillow next to his, he doesn't open them again. His consciousness awakens before his body does, it seems, and he startles with something akin to a familiar fear that he remembers feeling once, before, a lifetime ago.

His throat is full of something, which he cannot keep down for longer, and he opens his mouth to release a piercing cry. Like a flame rekindled by a rough hand, the memory sparks in his mind – he's been here before. And as he opens his eyes to the brightness and a woman's face weeping down at him with a smile, he realizes where.

He's been reborn. Again.

And he's lost Yuuri once again, as well.

His cries turn mournful and Victor closes his eyes to remember his beloved's face as it was – aged, wrinkly, _beautiful_ – just for a while longer, because he knows that the next time he sees Yuuri he'll be different. They both will be.

So he does it all over again: parents, learning, growing up, finding his place in the world and looking for Yuuri. Victor follows in his current father's footsteps and becomes a man of respect and recognition in the society, which brings his name onto the lips of others freely. He lives twenty years, thirty, forty...

Yuuri never finds him. He never finds Yuuri.

When he's fifty, growing bitter and cold in old age, he agrees to a flimsy duel and dies as a bullet pierces through the weak flesh of his human body without having even once seen his beloved.

It's alright, he thinks as the last breath leaves him, I'll find him again.

Since he's been reborn a second time, a theory has formed itself in his mind: the cycle of rebirth is endless, as long as their immortal souls are intact. He dies without fear, but with anticipation, and once he opens his eyes to a new world and a new life, he knows he was right. Fervently, Victor hopes that in this one he'll be able to find Yuuri, because now he is aware of what living without him feels like – it's lonely, it's boresome, it's painful with how his heart aches to be reunited with its other half.

He's a sailor, in this one. Braves the seas and new adventures in hopes that maybe this way he'll find Yuuri in the vastly growing world. He meets new people, makes friends, but none of them are what Yuuri has been. None can grow even close. In this life he fails to find Yuuri once more and the pain of it sends him to his grave at the age of forty – a broken heart and a pirate's blade that cuts right through it.

He takes up violin next. It's safer, and bound to bring him as much fame as anything else. People adore him, throw flowers at his feet, and Victor smiles a forced smile at them all. Because, how can a man truly live while his heart is separated from him?

He composes and plays, and hopes. His hopes are betrayed cruelly. After almost thirty years of living a haunted life, from afar he sees Yuuri cross a street and lead only by his instinct he begins to chase after him. His breath is a rush, blood is a thunder, his scarf has untied and now trails in the dirty snow on the ground, but Victor runs. He runs as fast as he can for only a glimpse, if at most, and he runs–

–right underneath the hooves of a passing carriage that breaks his body, and batters his soul.  

It's painful, waking up again to a new world. Reliving all the years up till he's old enough to search for Yuuri is even more so. Victor has had enough. He wants it to end.

Eternity was never something he feared, but now when he thinks of having to spend it without Yuuri, or missing him by only a few steps and yet being unable to hold him... it puts bitter panic in Victor's soul. It trembles viciously every morning as he opens his eyes to find Yuuri gone, and every night as he closes them he prays for even the smallest mercy from this torture.

Before he grows old enough to even ask his parents for anything of substance in this next life, they take him to a ball. He's a small boy of six, dressed in smart pants, a white buttondown and suspenders. A tiny hat frames his head and all the ladies coo at how precious he looks. Victor pays no attention to any of them, because he once again is awarded a chance: he sees Yuuri in the distance.

Yuuri is old. Victor hardly remembers how he used to age, back when they still managed to find each other in time to spend their lives together, but the passing of years has done nothing to make him less beautiful in Victor's eyes. Yuuri's head is a crown of silver, his cheeks have sunk under the weight of his frowns, and his knees tremble with each step that he takes with the aid of his cane.

"Lord Katsuki," Victor's mother greets when Yuuri slowly makes it towards them.

She curtseys, like Victor has seen her do many times that evening, but this time he feels like it is finally owed – Yuuri is someone who the world should bow to. Warm, delighted pleasure lights up his eyes as he turns them to gaze into Yuuri's soft ones that seem to be speaking what both of them think.

_Finally, I found you._

"Let me introduce my son, my lord," Victor's mother says, resting a hand on Victor's shoulder. "This is V–"

Yuuri's eyes widen then and his hand flies up to his chest to clutch at the fabric of his rich shirt. Victor _knows_ what is happening without even truly knowing: death has come to claim Yuuri once more, just as they were about to–

Yuuri collapses onto the floor as he breathes his final breaths, people scream, and Victor closes his eyes, trembling.

_Please_ , he begs while hot, desperate tears rolls down his cheeks, _make it stop._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> preview of the next chapter:
> 
> Victor smiles and he's sure it's a lonely smile.  
> "We were friends, once, in a past life," he says.


	10. X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A friend in need is a friend indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for day 6 of [@yoimythologyweek](https://yoimythologyweek.tumblr.com/), prompt: magical creatures

 

"Say, mother," Victor says, watching his mother stir the pot on the stove. "If you were a princess and a curse was laid upon you like in those stories, how would you break it?"

He's ten again, and stories with magic are his favourite among the books – or so his parents think – so the question doesn't rise his mother's concern. She only hums, wipes her hands on the dirtied apron she wears over her clothes from dawn till dusk, and sits with him at the table.

"Ah," she smiles. "The best way would be true love's kiss, my sweet. They say there is no power more magnificent in this world than the strength of pure, kind-hearted love."

Victor shakes his head. "But what if that doesn't work? Aren't there some... some spells, or maybe a magician that could break the curse?"

His mother tilts her head back as she thinks of a way that can save her son from a miserable existence, which she has no idea of knowing. She finally says:

"I heard that the fae make deals with humans from time to time, if one is lucky enough to catch them. But fae folk are treacherous and you never know how they'll trick you, so that could be even worse than living with a curse, you know?"

"The fae?" Victor murmurs to himself.

He doesn't care about a fate worse than what he already has to live through – if he can be beside Yuuri, he would be happy with anything. Nothing can be worse than an endless existence without his beloved.

Out loud, he asks: "So any creature with magic might have the power to break the curse? Or is it only the fae folk?"

"Now that you mention it, it might be that all of them can do that," his mother agrees. "Like centaurs and dragons and maybe even fauns? Oh, and mermaids!" She claps her hands and smiles. "How wonderful would it be to meet one! I heard from old nan that mermaids' singing leads the men of the sea astray – it is so beautiful that they lose all reason and only follow their voices."

Years later, when he's already searched the forests for the fae folk, the centaurs, the elves; when he's ruined countless soles of his shoes on the hard stones of the cliffs and caves in search for the dragons; when he's exhausted all resources to find the impossible, like he was so used to doing... he sets out to the sea, to brave the odds for one last time.

It will be his last journey, Victor decides as he boards His Majesty's Ship ambitiously named Victory, and he prays – not hopes, for hope he has lost centuries ago – he prays that this time he finds a reason to keep on living. The sea is a familiar territory to him and the long months he spends on the rolling ship don't faze him, except for the frustration of yet again being unable to find as much as a clue that can bring him closer to his destination.

As the weight in his chest grows, so does his resignation. It's been so long since he last talked to Yuuri, so long since he last saw him smile, and even longer, still, since he held him in his arms. The pain has grown so much over the many, many years that now Victor feels it no longer: it's an all engulfing numbness that wraps around his heart and makes him indifferent to everything that he once cherished.

It's a different type of hell, now he knows.

And without the help of a creature versed in magic, he has no chance to ever break out of it; that he knows as well, which only adds to his desperation and fuels his frustration further. Almost like a storm wrecks the waters of an ocean, he tears himself apart to travel from port to port in search of yet another myth.

It is during one of those storms that a thunder claps through the sky and a bolt of lightning cleaves the main mast almost in half. The ship leans to starboard and the wood groans as the waves greedily reach their claws on deck. Equipment, tools, belongings and people, all are equally as powerless as the greedy waters pull them down into the abyss.

Victor knows what this means and he welcomes death with open arms like an old friend. He doesn't fight it when the current pushes his body around, doesn't struggle for breath even when his lungs hurt – he sinks into it with the same numbness that he feels every day of his life.

He doesn't die, though.

It comes as a surprise, something that breaks through the veil of indifference, surrounds him like a ray of moonlight in a dark, dark night. Victor coughs out water from his lungs and it's a familiar feeling he doesn't remember where he knows from. He takes in the place he seems to have been washed out on and freezes once he spots what must be his saviour on top of a cliff slightly above him.

The sea shines in the midday sun far underneath them. Too far to ever reach there.

"Did you save me?" Victor asks.

The stranger turns from enjoying the light breeze and his lips quirk.

"I may or may not have," he replies. His green eyes are playful, and Victor knows that to mean 'yes'.

"Thank you," Victor says, since he was raised polite. "Your help was not needed, but you have my gratitude anyway."

"Wasn't needed?" the man asks, leaning on his hands over the edge of the cliff to look closer at Victor.

A frown appears on his face, but that is not what catches Victor's attention. His eyes move down the man's body: his bare chest, arms, waist... down to where legs should start, but instead he finds scales and a long tail of a fish. It is the colour of the man's eyes, green like the bottles often found astray at sea, and frankly presents a quite stunning picture of grace as it moves idly while the man speaks.

"If I have left you out there, you would've drowned, sailor. How is that not needed?"

Victor has never heard of merfolk other than the mermaids who lead the men of the sea to their doom with their beautiful voices, but here he is, faced with a male example of their species. One that has saved his life, at that.

His mouth drops open, yet the things he wishes to ask never come.

"See?" The merman smiles. "No arguments against it. You're welcome."

And as he smiles, Victor remembers his best friend from the many, many years before, whose smile was just like this one, whose face was just like this one, whose eyes were the same bottle green and whose hair was blonde and cropped short just like what he is seeing at the back of the merman's head.

"Chris," Victor recalls the name and it pangs in his chest with longing so thick he gasps.

"How do you know my name?" the merman asks. His eyes narrow on Victor and he jumps down to where Victor sits, face thoughtful. "Have we met before? You seem... somewhat familiar."

Victor smiles and he's sure it's a lonely smile.

"We were friends, once, in a past life," he says.

The merman looks at him curiously for a moment, before his face lights up in recognition.

"Ah," he says, "you aren't a sailor. You're a traveller."

Victor doesn't know what that means and he isn't in a need to know. He replies nothing, but that doesn't seem to bother the merman who reminds him so much of his long lost friend, Chris.

"I know why you're here," the merman gives after a moment of simply watching the waves crash against the cliffs. "I saw you coming. That's why I saved you. I didn't know how you looked until the storm hit, but..."

He waves a hand as if that little detail was of no consequence.

"You saw me...?" Victor repeats. "How?"

"My people, we can see the future. Not all of it, but glimpses," the merman explains, turning his eyes again on Victor with sadness. "Yours is not bright."

"You know my future?" Victor asks again, this time more interested.

Does he break the curse? Does he find Yuuri again? He breathes in an eager breath to ask his questions out loud, but the merman shakes his head.

"You shouldn't wish to know it," he says. "If you know it's coming, you will come to hate living itself."

Victor weighs his words and decides to beg for a more important thing than just his selfish gain.

"If you saw me coming, you must know why I'm here as well, yes? You said so before." He waits for the merman to nod and once he tilts his head in confirmation, Victor presses on: "The curse of Yggdrasil, the eternal cycle of rebirth... can you break it?"

The merman is silent for a long while, contemplative. When he finally speaks again it is after he heaves a sigh so burdened that Victor's heart tightens in despair. Maybe everything he's done until now has been for naught, maybe he's just bound to live a half-life without ever finding happiness again...

"It will be at a heavy cost to you," the merman says. "Magic always comes with a price, traveller. This one, however... I can only imagine that to give equally as what you take will mean your suffering. Worse than you already are, perhaps. Longer, as well. And all that within one final life that you will have left to live. Is that still something you wish for?"

"It is," Victor replies with no hesitation.

Even if he cannot find Yuuri again, even if nothing changes and he remains alone with his pain, the knowledge that as soon as he dies it will be over once and for all... it gives him comfort like he hasn't felt in ages.

"Very well," the merman says. "Then it shall be done."

Victor only has the time to blink when the merman lurches forward. Sharp teeth sink into Victor's throat and rip it apart in one greedy bite. The crunching of terrifying jaws fills Victor's ears along with the sound of the waves splashing against the cliffs and the last thing Victor sees as he's choking on his own blood is the blue of the cloudless sky... and then there's nothing – blissful darkness takes him into its arms and he rests in peace.

Until his eyes snap open again to the sound of his own cries and the face of his new mother smiling down at him.

This is the last one, Victor thinks, and then weeps some more: this time, from joy because finally his painful journey is coming to an end.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> preview of the next (and final!) chapter:
> 
> No, Victor tells himself. It's just someone with dark hair, that doesn't mean a thing. Don't be a fool, he whispers to his heart, don't hope too much. Disappointment will only hurt more.


	11. XI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor doesn't expect that the pain that's waiting for him is only the beginning of something much, much worse...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for day 7 of [@yoimythologyweek](https://yoimythologyweek.tumblr.com/), prompt: eros and psyche  
> treated lightly bc we all know victor is psyche in every single universe, including the canon so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

 

"Victor! Victor! Can we take a picture together?"

Victor turns, a smile ready on his lips. "Of course!"

The picture is taken as two girls chatter at him with cheerful youthfulness that Victor is too old, too tired to participate in. He smiles at them, but it's a smile that easily hides his eyes from everyone – for his eyes have been dead for as long as they haven't seen his Yuuri, so for twenty-seven years in this life and hundreds before it. He thinks he's allowed to be just a little bit tired and a little bit moody.

He finishes signing his autograph on both of the teens' shirts, gives back the Sharpie with another fake smile, and bids them goodbye. Yakov, the one from this life, who Victor was so fortunate to find, waits for him impatiently.

"We only have ten minutes before warm ups start, don't dawdle," he says, looking down at his watch before he looks up again. "And don't get hung up on the jumps. We both know your stamina isn't the same as it used to be and if you strain your knees before the actual performance, you're risking another injury that at your age–"

"Yes, yes, I know," Victor waves an annoyed hand at his coach. "It could end my career for good, you've told me enough. I heard you the first time. Or the second."

Yakov huffs at him. "What of it, if you never take it to heart?"

Victor shrugs and Yakov sighs at his lack of care for anything other than his own whims.

There is truth in that, Victor guesses, but after living as many years as he has, he cares for only a select few things apart from his Yuuri. Like the dog he took in as a young boy in this life, who reminded him so much of his own miserable existence: lonely and always searching for someone he could belong to. Like bringing fame to his name in any way possible, so that finding Yuuri, or letting him find Victor, would be easier on them both. Like giving shape to his artistic soul that in any life aches for his muse, his love, his other half...

The rinkside is loud when Victor enters the competitors' area. People cheer and cameras pan onto him, but he pretends to be focusing on his warm up and ignores it all. They love him, he knows. Or, they love the persona he's created: that of a lovable icon who always smiles, is always kind, and never allows himself to be brought down by either doubt or anger. It is a mask as far from his actual feelings as imaginable, but everyone seems to be charmed by it and so Victor plays his role as is expected of him while bottling down the aching loneliness that tears him apart on the inside.

He steps off the ice and puts his blade guards on. This isn't about the competition, never was, so he moves back to lean against one of the walls, close his eyes and think of what he always thinks of: Yuuri. How many years has it been since they talked? How many years has it been since Victor saw Yuuri's eyes light up with love and joy? How many years has it been since he could press his stuttering heart to Yuuri's and fall asleep in his embrace, safe, loved, and welcome?

The programs Victor prepared for the season speak of just that. The short is an ode to Yuuri, Victor's love confession all over again, and it's poetic and beautiful. The free, on the other hand, is a prayer he wholly dedicates to Yuuri each time that he skates, because _Stammi Vicino_ is the only thing he's ever wished for them – to stay close, together. And that has been cruelly ripped away from him as he was forced away from Yuuri for centuries.

Now, in this final life, all he can do is beg the gods to allow him this last chance to soothe his heart.

A hush falls over the crowd when skaters come onto the ice to perform their final skate of the Grand Prix one by one. Victor is leading after the short program, like he always is. Yakov stands nearby, watching the competition when Victor isn't: he's a good coach that pushes him to do his best even when Victor feels like giving up. That is one of the things Victor cherishes in him the most.

"What is Celestino's boy doing?" Victor hears Yakov mumble now. "He's completely falling apart."

Victor ignores it, as he ignores everything that doesn't involve Yuuri. A skater who can't perform well is of no consequence to him or his goals, so he stays in his corner until his turn comes at last. Yakov grunts when Victor shrugs his jacket off his shoulders and gives it to him.

"You don't need to push for the fourth quad," Yakov tells him. "Giacometti's score is only slightly above 300, so if you reduce that to a triple you'll still have enough of a margin to win. Think of your knees and your future, Vitya."

Victor only hums in reply. He won't. And Yakov knows it well, because he only sighs as Victor steps onto the ice.

"Don't worry, Yakov." Victor smiles, turning around for a brief second. "I know what I'm doing."

"Do you really?"

Yakov scowls at him and Victor's smile only widens. His eyes easily slide off his coach's face. He's ready to skate out onto the centre of the ice when his gaze catches on something familiar that looks so much like _Yuuri_ that Victor freezes in place. He quickly snaps all his attention to that mop of black hair that is now retreating back into the waiting area. Could it be...?

No, Victor tells himself. It's just someone with dark hair, that doesn't mean a thing. Don't be a fool, he whispers to his heart, don't hope too much. Disappointment will only hurt more.

Yet even though he tells himself all of that, his heart still aches at the false inkling of hope that managed to be awakened in that little moment. Victor cradles it close to his soul, lets it shroud him in a cloak of longing and fuels his skating with how badly he wishes his hopes weren't betrayed.

The applause is thunderous, but painful as well. Victor's own throat is tight and he feels tears burn at his eyes. He has bared his soul before all these people, shown them his biggest fear, biggest weakness, biggest mistake, and _they enjoyed it_. It's hard to smile after that, but Victor forces his face into it as his name once again takes the top spot.

At least that may help Yuuri find him... if he is even looking.

The banquet comes and the banquet goes, and Victor spends it talking to the people whose faces are a blur, whose names he can't be bothered to remember, whose presence in his life is all but meaningless. As the reigning champion he can't beg out of it early, so he suffers in silence and drinks from his glass with more dedication than he cares to address. Actually... when he thinks of it, wasn't he in a very similar position once, back before Yuuri entered his life and changed him into the man he is now?

Victor smiles to himself at the memory and drinks to that. Yuuri has been a driving force in his life for forever, it seems. Without him around, Victor is back to himself: monochrome, monotone, incomplete. Hi continuous struggle has become bothersome, but this life is finally his last. After it ends, whether he finds Yuuri or not, he'll be done – no more pain, no more hurt, no more struggle.

It feels oddly freeing, and he smiles into his drink.

"Victor!" someone calls and he turns with a tired smile to fend off even more people he doesn't know, nor cares to know.

Yet when strong arms wrap around him and a black haired man nuzzles his face in his chest, Victor freezes. He's no stranger to fans getting overtly touchy with him, but it catches him unawares every single time anyway. Just like it does now, leaving him motionless in the embrace of the person who now lifts his head and–

_Oh._

"Yuuri," Victor whispers.

It's him. It's Yuuri. _He's found him._

Before his joy can take the best of the rational portion of Victor's mind, Yuuri pulls back a little with an adorable little pout of confusion pursing his lips together. He looks slightly drunk, but no less precious in Victor's eyes; more so, in fact. Nothing could diminish Yuuri's brightness to him, Victor knows.

"You know my name?" Yuuri asks, looking at him with wide eyes.

"What?" Victor asks back, shocked. "Of course I do! Why wouldn't I?"

Yuuri opens his mouth and closes it as he shakes his head. Victor has a brief thought that something is wrong, that this is what he should be focusing on, but Yuuri's cheeks are bearing a tender flush and Victor's heart stutters in his chest – _god_ , he thinks, I've forgotten how truly beautiful he is; and he promptly forgets about anything else. He mourns all the years he's missed this view at the same time as he greedily drinks in Yuuri's face. It's been too long.

"You finally found me," Victor breathes, voice soft. He feels like crying, but the only thing that stops him is that the blur of tears would ruin his vision and deprive him of seeing Yuuri's sweet, darling face.

Yuuri grins at him with precious carelessness.

"Let's dance, Victor!" He takes his hand and Victor's world tilts on its axis towards the centre of his universe – Yuuri. "This party is so boring and you look like you need cheering up, so come on!"

If he asked Victor to jump off the hotel building, Victor would follow him just as blindly as he follows him into the middle of the banquet hall. Yuuri wraps his arms around Victor and leads him with the same ease with which he steals Victor's breath away. Helplessly, Victor laughs at every twirl and grins at the sight of Yuuri's smile as the dance pulls them apart and back to each other.

It's irresistible, the powerful feeling of being wrapped in Yuuri's warmth, his joy, his love. Once more Victor can tell that his very soul is being reborn from the ashes as it rises to fill every part of him with the sense of belonging.

"I love you so much," Victor whispers into Yuuri's ear, right off where he's pressing his cheek to Yuuri's head as they slow dance within a small crowd of others who joined their impromptu dancefloor.

"What did you say?" Yuuri asks, lifting his head to look at him.

Victor smiles. "I love you. I have for all these years."

The shock on Yuuri's face isn't what Victor was hoping to see. Suddenly, his chest feels tight and cold once again and it only gnarls inside him further when Yuuri pulls away from him.

"What do you mean _all these years_?" Yuuri asks. "When– How– This is the first time we've ever talked!"

Victor can't do anything other than stare at him. He isn't sure what it is that's running through his mind, the thoughts are too much and too little all at once to find coherent sense in them.

"I admit that I've admired you since I was thirteen and I always thought of coming up to you to talk. You were this big dream of every skating kid, but I've never–" Yuuri stops his panicked words. His eyes gleam with fear when they lift to meet Victor's. "I've never had the courage– Have I? Did... did I do something like this before?"

He shrinks back into himself, runs a hand through his hair and pulls at the roots in frustration, messing it up even more. Victor feels Yuuri's pain like he does his own. It ripples through his body in a powerful wave that forces his breath out and makes it difficult to catch another; he's drowning in it, because what Yuuri is saying...

"Yuuri," Victor forces words onto his tongue, even though it's numb from dread. "Does... does Yggdrasil mean anything to you?"

Yuuri looks at him, small and lost.

And when he shakes his head, Victor's world crumbles into the abyss of heartbreak and despair.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> preview of the next chapter bc I have 0 chill and I promised a yuuri pov (also I'm not cruel enough to leave you all suffering):
> 
> Sometimes when he talks like that Victor looks old. Sounds old. Yuuri feels the years and years that he's had to live through shining from Victor's eyes.


	12. XII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And all comes to an end... or does it?

 

Remembering is a lot like learning something anew, Yuuri realizes. It requires work, determination, patience – all of these come easy to him. The true difficulty lies elsewhere, because remembering things you know you've forgotten is one thing, but how do you remember something you don't remember remembering?

It's confusing. Frustrating to the point of tears. Doubts often rip into his heart and only let go when Victor smoothes out the worry with his warm, gentle hands. In this, Victor is his sole salvation.

"You were a swordsmaster," Victor tells him in a voice tinged with admiration. "I asked you to pose for me after I saw you disarm a man wielding a knife with your bare hands. You were quite a vision then." He smiles a quirky smile that has Yuuri's heart racing. "Not that you aren't now."

Yuuri accepts his words as they come, because why would Victor lie? What would be the point of it? Yuuri can't find a reasonable motive for Victor's actions, so that, and the inexplicable way Victor knows all of Yuuri's habits, all his nicks and cracks, and the best words to say to him when he is upset – it makes Yuuri's heart thump in recognition that his brain doesn't share.

It's strange, but Yuuri chooses to trust his gut, his heart, and he blindly walks into a world of mystery that Victor opens before him.

"If I had to pick one thing that made me fall in love with you, I think it'd have to be your fierce spirit," Victor says, eyes faraway and a ghost of a smile on his lips. "You jumped off a cliff to save my life, did you know? That day was also when we first kissed!"

Sometimes when he talks like that Victor looks old. Sounds old. Yuuri feels the years and years that he's had to live through weigh on him. But even then there is something that draws Yuuri to him – a familiarity that breathes of home and warmth. It overlaps with the wisps of memories that veil over Yuuri's eyes at times, like when he's sitting at the onsen and Victor takes his hand, or when they go out and Victor tilts his head up to the sky. He doesn't recall the full memory, but the imprint of it must have been burned into his soul strongly enough that he can call it forward even now.

These glimpses give Victor hope.

"We aged together in one of our lives," he tells Yuuri then, happy and lovable. "You had this goatee that was incredibly sexy. I couldn't stop myself from always rubbing my face against it."

Yuuri blushes whenever Victor says things like that, and it only seems to add more fuel to Victor's efforts. He lists the reasons why he loves Yuuri, the things he loves about him, quotes poems and lyrics he's written in praise of Yuuri's beauty.

Sometimes, when the compliments spill from Victor's lips easy as breathing, Yuuri feels like Victor talks about someone who most definitely isn't him – this amazing person that has caught Victor's heart can't possibly be this anxious wreck he knows himself as – but then Victor turns to him and sees Yuuri looking, and the warmth that brightens up his face is as blinding, as intense as the sun. It chases Yuuri's second thoughts away without a moment of hesitation, so how can he argue with that when Victor speaks his name with so much affection, so much fondness?

"What if I never remember?" Yuuri asks Victor one day as they sit on the beach in Hasetsu and watch the sun set behind the horizon while Makkachin plays with the waves splashing into their feet.

Victor's eyes are worried when he turns to Yuuri.

"Oh no... did my talking about it make you think that matters to me? Yuuri, love," Victor says, taking Yuuri's hands in his. His face is soft and contrite, and Yuuri's fingers tingle with warmth. "I'm so sorry. I never meant for you to feel this way. It doesn't matter in the slightest if you remember or not, what we have here, now – that's all that I ever wanted. Stammi Vicino, yes? Just to stay close to you."

His hands squeeze Yuuri's gently, and Yuuri loves that, he truly does. The time they spend together in Hasetsu is and forever will be a part of Yuuri's fondest memories, he's sure of it.

He was drunk that day of the Sochi banquet when he and Victor danced, but not drunk enough to forget the shock of hearing Victor's confession and then, his life's story. It took time for him to accept, and even longer to reconcile with the idea that they were not only soulmates, which in and of itself was ludicrous, but also immortal, reincarnating time travellers.

He did accept it, though. Victor is not a man who lies, no matter how harsh and uncomfortable the truth is, and that is a thing Yuuri cherishes in him. That trust in Victor is what has lead him to this moment now, sitting on the warm sands of Hasetsu beach and holding Victor's hands like they are his to hold.

Are they?

"So if I never remember loving you," Yuuri starts and swallows, before he gathers the courage to continue: "you will still stay here? You will still be–"

_–with me?_

He can't finish. The words get stuck in his throat and he only looks at Victor with helpless hope.

"It was never in question, my Yuuri," Victor tells him as he brings Yuuri's hands to his lips and presses kisses to both. "I will always follow you, even if you don't remember me. Even if you get turned into an old man, an infant, a form that I can't recognize – I will always find you, and be with you. Or at least I will try my hardest. That I can promise."

"That sounds like slavery," Yuuri whispers.

It's touching that Victor wants to go that far for him, yes, but Yuuri will never be content with someone going to such lengths for him when he can't reciprocate with the same. It just... it isn't fair.

"Isn't love a kind of it?" Victor smiles a little. "Treating the needs of your beloved above your own, because you love them and you want them to be happy, at any cost to you?"

Yuuri can't say a thing to that, because he knows Victor is right. And he knows that he would do anything for Victor, too. He might not know what they used to have, but he knows who he is now and who Victor is to him: and that's someone far more precious than Yuuri can put into words alone. As such, he can't stand the thought of how much Victor has suffered through for him, how much he's still willing to suffer through...

He bites his lip and opens his mouth to set Victor free of this burden he's been carrying for so long, but Victor speaks first and what he says changes Yuuri's mind.

"You are the Yuuri that I knew, but you are also a new Yuuri. With every life that we lived, we became different people. I played the violin, wrote poems, sailed the seas. You were a swordsmaster, a wine merchant, a baker. We both walked separate parts to get to this point in time, in the universe, and while I might talk fondly of the few things I still remember, the truth is... I don't know you at all, Yuuri, not anymore."

He smiles and it's a sad little smile that Yuuri wants gone as soon as it shows. Victor shakes his head lightly.

"But that isn't a bad thing," he goes on. "It's a good thing. It gives me the opportunity to learn who you are once again. To let you learn who I am as well and... to fall in love with you once again. Because I know I will, if only you give me a chance."

Victor slides his fingers between Yuuri's and holds onto him for just a breath, as if the light sea breeze could tear them apart, and then he lets go. He smiles, and this smile is no happier than the last, but this time Yuuri sees the veil of tears in his eyes and his own heart clenches in an echo of Victor's pain.

"So," Victor says. "Will you learn to love with me once more, Yuuri?"

Yuuri can only nod, because his voice is gone and his lips are trembling.

It isn't a relief when Victor smiles at him, but when his arms reach out and pull Yuuri into his warmth while the last lingering rays of the sun caress his back above of where Victor's hands rest, Yuuri realizes why Victor has spent so long looking for him – for a possibility of understanding another person as if they truly hold the other piece of your soul, Yuuri would search the world, the time, and the universe, too.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's it yall~  
> I wanted to thank you for coming with me on this crazyass journey bc when I started this fic I had no idea where it would go and this HUGEASS MOUNTAIN OF ANGST was definitely not what I expected ahahaha the ending is a little bittersweet, I know, but I trust in our boys to pull through and learn to love each other again as the new people they are <3
> 
> thanks for reading this story and if you enjoyed it, check out my other works bc who knows, maybe you'll like them too? ^u^)b  
> you can also find me and my writes on tumblr [@katzuyas](http://katzuyas.tumblr.com/)
> 
> till next time!


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